


Petals and Ash

by DragonThistle



Series: A Black Backpack Full of Fireworks [5]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Body Horror, Torture, suggested Paperhat if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/pseuds/DragonThistle
Summary: A rose should be redViolets meant to be blueWhen Black Hat gives you ordersYou had best follow through...





	Petals and Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my writing group's monthly writing challenge. Been a while since I posted anything, sorry about that. I have lots of bits started but I can't seem to finish any of them.

“Dr. Flug!”

Black Hat announced his arrival into the lab with a shout and a bang as he stomped his foot. Flug, who had been bent double over his workbench, jumped a good foot in the air and spun around. He slammed his hip into the table and nearly fell over, biting his lip to keep a cry of pain trapped in his lungs. Eyes watering and hip smarting, he straightened up to face his boss,

“Y-yessir? Can I do something to help you, ah, sir?”

“That useless creation of yours is creating a ruckus!” Black Hat snarled, lip curling to show off his acidic teeth, “It’s blubbering all over the mansion! Control that blasted thing!”

“I’m sorry, sir! He—5.0.5 is just upset.”

“Clearly.”

Flug swallowed, “It’s j-just that—well, the heroes that tried to, ah, to break in a few days ago. They destroyed the garden and he was working ever so hard on it—“

“I don’t care! I just want him to _shut up_!” Another stomp of his foot and Flug swore he felt the foundations of the mansion shudder, “I don’t care what you do as long as things quiet down around here. There’s already one noisy menace in this house, I don’t need another one!”

And then he was gone a swirl of black smoke leaving only the stench of ozone behind.

And a shoe-shaped imprint on the tile floor.

Flug sighed, letting the tension drain out of his shoulders, and glanced back at the workbench. Apparently he newest invention would have to wait. Of course, then the boss would demand to know why he was behind on his work and he’d have to stumble through one excuse after another until he inevitably stumbled onto the conclusion that he really wished he had perfected that cloning technology.

Or maybe…

The inventor drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, frowning at his prototype. Maybe he could modify this. Maybe, for once, he could save his own ass.

*****

“Why are we outside and not in the lab for this demonstration?” Black Hat brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his suit. There was no dust. No dust would dare land on Black Hat.

“Because this is the best spot to show off what this device is capable of,” Flug answered, running a few last minute checks on the shotgun-like contraption in his hands. Satisfied, he turned his attention to other matters, “Demencia, did you get what I asked for?”

“Sure did!” Demencia said cheerily. She skipped back around the side of the manor and, minutes, later, came back dragging a captive. She flung the man bound in ropes and gagged with what looked like an old sock into the dirt at Flug’s feet. The man glared daggers at Flug who just smiled at him from behind his paper bag,

“Hello, Hemlock. Thank you for volunteering to help me with my demonstration today. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Hemlock begin spitting what sounded suspiciously like curses from under his gag. Flug _tsked_ and stepped back a few feet, “Language, _hero_ , you’ve got an image to keep up. Well, you did.”

“As much as I love hearing you banter,” Black Hat’s voice was a chill down Flug’s spine, “Get on with it or I’ll gag _you_ next.”

Flug blushed under his disguise and leveled the shotgun at the hero in the dirt, “Apologies, boss. Now, this device will kill two birds with one stone. One, being our guest here. And the other…” He cocked the hammer back, flicked a switch, aimed, and fired. What looked like buckshot peppered into Hemlock’s body and he bucked, shouting in muffled agony.

Black Hat did not look impressed, “A _gun_ , Flug? You built a _gun_? Why I should take your spine and—“

“Ah, w-wait, sir, look! It’s starting!” Flug jabbed a finger eagerly at Hemlock. The three villains peered closer—two in curiosity and one in excitement.

Hemlock’s chest was heaving, sweat pouring down his face, his body shaking. At first, it looked like nothing was happening. But then they saw it. Tendrils of green were sprouting out of the holes where Hemlock had been shot. Slowly and far between at first, but then faster. More of them began to ripples over him snakes, slithering over his body and tangling together. A few draped over his sides and dug into the ground. Hemlock was, by now, screaming and crying into his gag, straining to break free.

The tendrils wrapped around one another and built upwards. Tiny buds appeared on the tips of some. Then the thorns began to sprout. They were wicked sharp and far too big to be natural. They ripped through Hemlock’s flesh, tearing gouges in him as they grew upwards. One scored through his eye in a spurt of bright red.

Black Hat was grinning so wide you could see all his teeth, sizzling drool was collecting at the corner of his mouth, hissing as it hit the ground. No one noticed, too enraptured by the site before them.

The plants grew bigger, warping Hemlock’s body and chewing through his flesh. His throat bulged, his remaining eye rolling back as his airways were constricted. Seams split across the skin of his neck as thorns pushed their way outwards, eventually tearing through his throat and the gag and continuing to grow, bursting out of his mouth in a fountain of red. Flowers bloomed rapidly, petals unfurling like dancers, and the thorns grew even larger, their tips an angry red against the dark green of the stems. Eventually, the growths slowed and finally came to a stop with a quiver of leaves like a sigh.

Flug’s breathing was heavy, his face flushed, the collar of his shirt tight at his neck. That had worked even better than he’d expected, far better than his small tests in the lab. His stomach was a knot of butterflies, his head whirling. It had been a thrilling spectacle to witness and he lamented, briefly, not having another subject to test it on again.

“Demencia,” He sounded breathless, exhilarated, “Go get 5.0.5. I’m sure he’d like to see his new garden.”

Giggling with macabre glee, Demencia bolted back into the mansion. Taking a deep breath to try and calm his pounding heart, Flug turned to the one person who remained.

His boss was grinning in a smug sort of way, the barest hint of his teeth showing. He seemed to absorb the sunlight, creating a black void in the world that was hard to look at and harder to comprehend.

“Excellent work, Flug,” Black Hat strode past his inventor and delicately brushed his fingertips over the petals of a rose that was as black as he was, “Positively sadistic. You’d think I would stop being mildly surprised by the viciousness this position tends to draw out of that cowardice of yours. You’re absolutely disgusting, Doctor.”

Flug felt his knees shake at the compliment. He jumped when Black Hat turned to him, a black rose resting in the palm of his gloved hand,

“That being said,” Black Hat purred, “I feel like, perhaps, you made this to spite me, mm? Maybe because you were told to do two things at once? Were you trying to be cheeky, Flug?”

“N-n-no, sir, not at all! I w-w-was just trying to save some time and—“

Black Hat was suddenly inches away from him, velvet fingertips pinned to Flug’s cheek, lifting his chin, pinching his jaw, “Now, Flug, don’t go and lose that spine you had just a moment ago. It was such a nice look on you…”

This close, Flug was keenly aware of the power thrumming underneath the grey skin of the unspeakable creature before him. The scent of ozone and burnt things clogged his senses, his palms were sweaty, his blood was ice in his veins. Black Hat filled his world. Black Hat _was_ his world. Flug could see his reflection in his boss’ monocle, could taste the charcoal and hot metal on his tongue, could lose himself in that icy-hot eye burrowing into his soul.

Blink and it was over.

Black Hat was back by the rose bush, idly spinning the stolen blossom in his fingertips. He looked bored.

“Excellent work, Dr. Flug. However, I don’t think this particular device is suited for mass market consumption. Villains have an aesthetic, you know. I think we’ll keep this little toy to ourselves. Which means,” He grinned, wicked needles in a crescent, “You now have one week less to finish something new for the catalog. Good luck~”

The villain cackled, clenching his fists, and walked away. He tossed the ruined blossom over his shoulder, sending a cascade of black petals in Flug’s direction. Flug watched them flutter to the ground like ash, sighed, hefted up his flower shotgun, and trailed after his boss back into the mansion.


End file.
